


and i'll try to keep my cool but i'm fiendin'

by truthbealiar



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Joffrey Baratheon is His Own Warning, M/M, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Ramsay is His Own Warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthbealiar/pseuds/truthbealiar
Summary: Truthfully, Theon's about ready to create a special plaque for the Stark family in the E.R., since they keep occupying it. But hey, if it keeps bringing Sansa Stark back to him, he's not exactly complaining.- or -Theon keeps seeing Sansa Stark in his E.R. Hereallywants to see her out of it. And out of some other things as well, if he's being perfectly honest.





	and i'll try to keep my cool but i'm fiendin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seastarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seastarks/gifts).



> this fic was written for my birthday giveaway for [seastarks](http://seastarks.tumblr.com)! the requested prompt was "modern theonsa".
> 
> fic title from macy gray

In all honesty, Theon loves working Thanksgiving. He always volunteered to take the Thanksgiving shift, rolling his eyes and ignoring the mixed glances of pity and gratitude. He would always receive at least a couple of pats on the shoulder, and a halfhearted promise that "next year it will be different." Honestly, Theon didn't mind. The new management hadn't yet taken over, so the policy on double dipping was still somewhat open ended - meaning Theon got overtime _and_ holiday pay - for at least one more year. 

And it wasn't like spending Thanksgiving at the hospital was _boring_. There were always all sorts of fun injuries Theon got to witness, and plenty of tantalizing family drama that he had no emotional stake in whatsoever. Theon wasn't the only nurse scheduled to work of course, which meant there was always an incredible Thanksgiving potluck. Theon contributed by bringing the beer for _after_ the shift was over, but really, everyone was more grateful for it. Really, working Thanksgiving was pretty enjoyable for Theon. 

What _wasn't_ enjoyable was the looks of pity he would get from patients - as if _he_ was the one to be pitied on the holiday. Sure, he was at the hospital, working, but he didn't have much in the way of family in the first place, and he also didn't have a gash down to the bone because he had tried to use an electric knife improperly. Theon had Yara, who had Dany in turn. He would meet up with them at Yara's bar later that night, and Missandei and Grey might wind up joining them. Yara would shove some store bought pumpkin pie on a plate, and Theon would beat Dany's ass at pool, because it was fun to see her weird violet eyes go dark with anger, and she was always way more eager to go home with Yara when that happened.

So maybe helping his sister score with her quite devoted girlfriend wasn't the layman's idea of a great Thanksgiving, but it was Theon's. 

Besides, on top of _not_ having a terrible injury, Theon was getting his regular salary two and a half times over for putting up with the circus that was the emergency room. It honestly worked out best for Theon, if anyone ever bothered to ask, instead of just looking at him with wide, sad eyes. 

"Hey Theon, we're swamped, can you get the patient over there?" Theon followed Mya's nod to a bed surrounded by what looked like a large family of redheads, and Theon had to resist the urge to snort. Of course a family of fucking _Weasleys_ would wind up in the ER. He didn't know anything about the patient, and he wouldn't until he saw the chart, but whoever it was had already been triaged, and clearly wasn't quite so dire off that he or she had been rushed into surgery. So the whole family surrounding the bed was probably overkill.

Of course, as Theon approached the bed, and let his gaze fall on what was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his goddamned life, he began to rethink that bit.

Because Theon was a consummate professional, he didn't let his eyes linger on the blue eyed goddess any longer than the other figures assembled. The patient in question was a woman, with long red hair and blue eyes set in a beautiful face, looking remarkably calm, given the bloodied rag she was clutching to her left hand. 

Hovering beside the hospital bed was a long-faced man, whose eyes were crinkled with concern, his mouth drawn tight with worry. His hands seemed to flit aimlessly, as if he longed to grab the woman's hand, but didn't wish to cause her further pain. Every few seconds the patient would look up at him with a reassuring smile that appeared more of a grimace. The husband then, Theon decided. 

The majority of the children, as Theon assumed they were, making quick guestimations on ages, seemed to take after their mother. There dark haired girl who seemed to take her father's coloring was perched at the edge of the bed like a cat, as if poised to backflip straight off of it - and Drowned God Theon hoped she didn't, he liked working Thanksgiving, but dealing with a cracked cranium and the pandemonium it would cause was not worth the holiday pay he was earning. 

There were three auburn haired boys as well. The one that looked closest to Theon's age was pacing a three foot walkway furiously, muttering to himself, and throwing worried glances at the patient. Theon would have thought there was legitimate danger to her life, the way he was going on. The patient herself seemed a tad bit annoyed to be honest, meeting the gaze of the wheelchair bound boy ever so often, and rolling her eyes. The youngest looking boy - but also the tallest, based on his gangly limbs sprawled every which way, had dragged one of the stiff backed chairs from the waiting room, and somehow managed to take up as much possible space, gazing between his family's antics and his phone. Beside him, in the softest looking cream colored sweater Theon had ever seen, paired with dark maroon leggings that seemed more like a second skin than anything, was the woman who Theon reckoned could step on him with her heeled boot, and he'd probably thank her for the chance to get so close to such perfection.

Alright, so maybe his co-workers were onto something, and he actually _did_ need to get out of the hospital more.

All of this, Theon noted in between carefully observing the family, and glancing down at the patient's chart. Watching the family didn't _just_ come about because Theon suddenly fancied a beautiful woman. Whenever he had the chance in non-emergent situations, he liked to observe the dynamics of the visitors. He had learned the hard way, early on into his career, when he had walked straight into the middle of a family feud over a decade old affair - drama lifted straight from a _Grey's Anatomy_ episode which Theon _certainly_ did not watch - and wound up on the wrong side of a fist. 

If anyone was going to deck him from this family, it would probably be the sphinx perched on the end of the bed, but honestly, Theon would like to avoid any threats of violence to his person. Unless it was the woman in the cream sweater. Theon would probably let her do anything she wanted to him.

"Right, Catelyn Stark?" Theon asked loudly as he approached the family. Instantly everyone seemed to straighten, and he found himself in the eerie position of being on the receiving end of several very intense gazes, most of them blue-eyed. It might have been just his overactive imagination, but he kind of thought the woman in the sweater seemed to have the kindest gaze. Her hair was partially braided, with the rest of it tumbling down her back - and _god_ was it long - leaving nothing obscuring the brightness of her eyes. 

Theon swallowed. "I'm Nurse Greyjoy. It says here you cut yourself?"

Catelyn Stark, the patient resting on the bed, grimaced and nodded. "I did. I'm so embarrassed, I haven't done something like this since I was practically a child! But the dogs distracted me, and the next thing I knew, my hand and the onions were covered in blood!"

The girl - a young woman actually, now that Theon got a closer look at her - glared at the brother sprawled out in the chair. "I _told_ you to take Shaggydog outside!" She burst out exasperatedly, and the boy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, like anyone but Jon could get anywhere _near_ the dogs once you brought your vicious beast over. And how do you know it was Shaggydog who didn't distract her? Or Grey Wind, or Ghost, or Lady?" Based on the looks the gangly-limbed son of Catelyn Stark received, Theon guessed it had been a foolish suggestion. But, as entertaining as this all was, Theon did have a job to do. Even if he really didn't want to leave without getting the woman in the sweater's number. Or at least her name. 

"Don't worry about it ma'am, it happens all the time. You did a good job keeping the wound clean." The man beside Catelyn Stark seemed to simultaneously puff with pride and deflate when he remembered why it had been necessary in the first place. Theon held back a snicker. "I'm just going to go ahead and stitch up your hand, and I'll have you out of here in no time."

"Now just hold on!" The man who seemed closest in age to Theon suddenly protested. "You're a nurse aren't you? Shouldn't a doctor be doing this?"

Theon had received this exact complaint enough times that he didn't even have to stop himself from rolling his eyes anymore - he just did it internally. But before he could give the very-well used little speech he _always_ wound up giving, the woman with the hypnotic blue eyes - somehow _different_ than all her siblings' similarly colored eyes - interrupted.

" _Robb_." Her voice was harsh and disappointed. Theon arched an eyebrow as he saw the man - Robb - cringe, and physically shrink back. "Don't be rude," the woman snapped. "How would you like it if one of us came into your place of work, and questioned your ability to do your job?" Robb looked further chastised. His mother and father were pursing their lips, clearly holding back smiles, while their other children made no such attempt.

"Told you it would be Robb who pissed Sansa off," the boy in the wheelchair muttered, as his brother snickered beside him. _Sansa_. Theon's eyes flickered back to _Sansa_. It fit her. Though Theon reckoned, there wasn't much that _wouldn't_ fit her. "Pay up Arya, you owe me ten bucks." 

The woman who had leaped off her perch, and now rocked back and forth on her tiptoes - god she was small - rolled her eyes and began digging in her pockets. "Sansa _never_ gets mad at holidays," she whined in protest. "Way to go Robb, I was finally going to beat Bran."

Sansa herself looked a little bit pink, and Theon had to banish the thought of wondering just how far down her body the flush went. Completely inappropriate and unprofessional. Speaking of which...

"It's really okay," Theon assured Sansa with a smile that was more smirk than anything, because he was Theon Greyjoy, and he didn't just _smile_. "I get that question a lot." Directing his attention to Robb, he gestured at his badge. "I'm a nurse practitioner which means I'm able to do sutures. Now it's your prerogative if you'd like to wait for a doctor, but as you can see, we're pretty busy, so it could be upward of a couple of hours."

"It's absolutely fine Nurse Greyjoy, I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job," Catelyn Stark spoke up, fixing Robb with a stern look. "I apologize for my son's rudeness. I promise, I raised him better than this."

For his part, Robb looked sheepish, and gave a very genuine sounding apology, which Theon just waved off. Moving beside the bed, Theon took Catelyn's hand, and got a look at the wound. It certainly wasn't the worst he had seen, not even today, and it would be a rather quick fix. Reaching for the suture kit, Theon quickly went to work, murmuring a quick word of apology when the patient's hand flinched in his at the sudden pinch of a needle being woven across the gash.

"Why couldn't you just do this at home, Sansa?" The woman that had paid the wheelchair bound boy - Arya and Bran respectively, if Theon's memory was correct - asked with a mischevious smirk.

Sansa just rolled her eyes. "Oh my god Arya, it was one time, and I was fourteen. Let it go." 

Theon's curiosity must have shown on his face, or maybe Bran was just a psychic, because suddenly his eyes - far more unnerving than Sansa's - were fixed on Theon. His expression was blank, but his voice sounded like he was smirking, if such a thing was possible. "Sansa is pretty good with a needle, and likes to sew. But she tried to sew up a cut Rickon got while she was babysitting, so she didn't have to tell anyone that he got hurt on her watch."

The whole family seemed to burst into laughter, except for Sansa and Rickon, the gangly limbed teen, who seemed quite indignant.

"Oh, you were fine!" Sansa snapped. "Lyanna likes your scar, give it a rest."

"Not coming for my job then, are you?" Theon snarked, the banter coming easily to him, as he found that talking throughout the process tended to keep the patient distracted, and less focused on the pain.

He could have sworn Sansa's smile softened the tiniest bit, but it was Robb who spoke up. "No way, No matter how good her stitches are, she's better in a kitchen." 

It was Rickon who let out a yelp, so loud that nearly everyone jumped. It was only Theon's years of experience in the E.R., and a testament to how he conducted himself under pressure that kept his hand steady, though he did fix the teen with a glare.

"Sansa's a chef! We can still have Thanksgiving dinner!" 

Theon chanced a glance at Sansa, whose face seemed to take on the brief appearance of panic, dread, and something akin to resignation, before becoming serene once again. Theon felt for her, he really did. It was probably the last thing she wanted to do, cooking a Thanksgiving dinner on short notice, especially if she had the day off. Thanksgiving was a bitch for anyone, professional chef or not. He still remembered Yara's attempt, the first Thanksgiving after their mother died. He had thought she might legitimately murder him when he told her that he didn't actually like turkey, after all her hours of work. But they had abandoned the limp green beans and burnt casseroles and terrible, dry poultry, and snuck downstairs to their father's sports bar, and split a plate of chili cheese fries, and watched football in the shadowy corner of the bar.

It was that memory that had Theon's tongue moving, before he even realized what he was saying.

"There's a pizza parlor about a block from here. It's a hole in the wall place, and their pizza is covered in grease, but it's probably the best pizza I've ever tasted. It's open all day, even today."

Robb threw Theon a patronizing glance, and this time Theon _did_ have to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"Sansa has a Michelin star."

Of fucking course she did. But Theon just shrugged, and didn't bother pointing out that _people_ couldn't receive Michelin stars, their _restaurants_ could, he wasn't uncultured swine thanks very much. 

"No offense to your sister, but I haven't had her pizza. Just a recommendation though." 

He returned to stitching up Catelyn Stark's hand, pretending he didn't notice the small smile that had spread across Sansa's face. Just like he pretended later, as the large, rambunctious family piled up to leave, talking about pizza all the while, she didn't give him a slightly shy smile, and tuck her hair behind her ear.

Theon moved toward the circulation desk, and promptly let his head fall against it with a loud groan.

* * *

It was a couple of weeks later before Theon saw Sansa Stark again, though he spent quite a while thinking about her. He had tried to figure out how exactly he could go about getting her number, and how to frame it in a non-creepy way, but he had come up blank. Sansa was ridiculously private on her social media accounts - something Theon could respect - and even googling her had done him no good. He had at least expected some sort of op-ed about her and a Michelin star, if Robb was to be believed. And then, trying to figure out which restaurant with a Michelin star Sansa worked at proved to be a dud as well, considering there were quite a few in the city. Who knew?

Really though, Theon should have taken one look at the family, and realized he would be seeing them again quite soon. Sure enough, it was on Christmas Day - another holiday that Theon liked to work for the extra pay, before meeting up with Yara and Dany at the bar - that Robb Stark came bolting into the Emergency Room, carrying an annoyed looking Bran in his arms. "I need help immediately!" 

Theon of course, sprang into action, pushing a gurney over to the pair immediately, where Robb set Bran down. "What happened?" Theon asked, watching Jeyne hand Robb a clipboard to fill out, before turning his gaze back to Bran, and letting his eyes sweep over him, looking for immediate signs of damage. He seemed to be much better off than Robb's antics had made it seem, and was even rolling his eyes. However before Bran or Robb could get a word in edgewise, the elevator dinged, and two more Starks walked out, looking quite put out.

It was a Christmas miracle that Theon's jaw didn't drop. Sansa was wearing a forest green sweater dress this time, with the long sleeves and turtleneck only serving to make the tight cling of the material, and the dangerously short hemline, all the sexier. Fuck but she was gorgeous. Her long red hair had been swept into a curly ponytail today, and she wore a minimal amount of makeup that only made her eyes pop all the more, fixed firmly on Robb and Bran, her mouth set in anger. Beside her, Arya was pushing Bran's wheelchair - sans Bran - with a knowing smirk on her lips. 

"Robb, I cannot _believe_ you just left us at the car!" Sansa snapped as they drew closer. "What were you even thinking?"

"I was thinking that Bran needed to see a doctor immediately!" 

"What needs to happen right now is someone needs to tell me what is actually wrong," Theon cut in loudly, wanting to cut off this conversation before it was further derailed. 

Unsurprisingly, it was Sansa who sighed, and began to explain. "We were heading to our parents' house, and we were pushing Bran on the sidewalk. We weren't careful enough, and his wheelchair hit a patch of ice, and we all wound up falling. Bran hit the ground pretty hard, and it seems like he has a dislocated shoulder, so we thought it would be best to bring him here."

Theon turned to Robb, his eyebrows raised. "He has a dislocated shoulder, and you thought the best thing to do would be to carry him while running?"

"I made sure not to jostle him!" Robb protested, and Theon sighed heavily.

"Finish his paperwork. I'll take your brother in for some X-Rays," he muttered, and began to wheel Bran off, shaking his head as he did so.

Navigating the hallways as if it was second nature - which at this point, it basically _was_ \- Theon quickly pushed Bran's gurney into the lab, and reached for the heavy, protective lead vests. Fastening his own across his chest, he began to drape the other over Bran, taking care around the left shoulder, the one which Bran had indicated was possibly dislocated.

"I suppose I don't need to ask you if you might be pregnant?" Theon joked, a smirk on his lips. To his surprise, Bran returned the smirk with one of his own.

"Oh I don't know. Shouldn't you be asking Sansa that?" Theon's fingers stilled along the velcro straps of the vest for just a moment, before resuming their work. But it had been long enough, and Bran's smirk only widened. Theon had a feeling he was going to learn to hate that smirk in a very short amount of time. "She's not, by the way." Yep, Theon was right. "Though it's not for our mother's lack of trying. She wants grandkids, and Sansa's her best shot, clearly." Theon had to hold back a snort. He was pretty sure Robb was the oldest, but...Catelyn Stark was probably right to put her eggs in Sansa's basket. "She's not dating anyone at the moment either. She was, but he's a prick that we hate. He's got this way of weasling back into her life though." The look Bran fixed him with was sharp and scrutinizing, and Theon felt a bit like _he_ was the one being x-rayed. "She wouldn't say no, you know. If you asked her out on a date. She'd probably really like that."

"Alright, I'm going to need you to hold still while we get pictures of your arm," Theon said loudly - a little louder than the situation called for, as he tried his hardest _not_ to think about what Bran had said. Thankfully, the young man fell silent, but it didn't really help Theon with the whole 'distracting himself' business. In fact, it was all Theon could think about as he muddled through the rest of his shift, running labs and x-rays and diagnosing patients. In fact, Theon thought about Bran's words so much, that he had resolved to actually take a leap and _ask Sansa Stark out_ when he saw her in the waiting room.

But by the time he arrived in the waiting room, it was the end of his shift, and Sansa Stark had long since disappeared.

* * *

The next time Theon saw Sansa Stark, he really wished he hadn't. 

It was New Year's Eve, and a holiday Theon didn't actually want to be working. He had planned to go out with Gendry and Pod, but when Jeyne had begged him to cover her shift due to her daughter's chicken pox, Theon had shouted at her to vaccinate her kids, and begrudgingly agreed. He could go out with the guys some other night, and even be able to afford it too, thanks to the holiday pay he would be earning from working New Year's Eve. 

This holiday was always something of a mixed bag for Theon. He didn't really have any strong memories or associations with it, so he was unlikely to have a sudden emotional reaction, the way missing his mother sometimes gripped him around Thanksgiving or Christmas. New Year's was pretty much a drinking holiday, and everyone knew that. But that meant there were typically a lot of drunks in the Emergency Room, which could be equal parts hilarious, frustrating, and actually dangerous. 

The situation in the waiting room probably would have been a bit of all three, if it wasn't for the people actually involved. 

Theon couldn't explain why his heart sank a little bit when he saw Sansa, when by all accounts, it should be leaping into his throat. She looked stunning as always, this time in a shimmery silvery dress that fit the holiday occasion. Maybe it had something to do with the miserable expression on her face, the way her eyes were downcast. Maybe it had something to do with her older brother, gesticulating wildly with one hand, the other holding an ice pack to the bloodied nose that was probably broken. Most likely though, it had to do with the smug-looking blonde who was standing possessively close to Sansa, making it all too clear, without even touching her, that the two of them were together. 

_"The ex is a prick,"_ Bran had said. But hadn't he also said he was good at weasling his way back into Sansa's life? Theon wondered if that was what had happened, or if Sansa just had terrible taste in men. Perhaps it wasn't fair of him to judge, since Theon didn't even know - aside from the stone in the pit of his stomach - if the man by Sansa was actually dating her or not, let alone whether it was the ex Bran had mentioned. But he just looked like an asshole. And really, Sansa having terrible taste in men wasn't the worst thing in the world. Theon might have a fighting chance with her if she did. If the smarmy looking blonde ever decided to get out of the picture.

Realizing that the scene Theon was witnessing from the circulation desk was threatening to get out of hand, and no one else was going to intervene, Theon sighed heavily, and made his way over to the trio, drawing close enough to pick up what Robb was saying through the viscous blood pooling around his nose.

"You better shut the fuck up, _Lannister_ , before I give you a second black eye and a broken nose. Your face won't look so pretty _then_ , will it?" Theon swore, picking up his pace, and stepping right in between the two men - probably a stupid decision. But it afforded him an unobstructed view of Sansa, and _gods_ , his heart physically ached in his chest, seeing the obvious sadness and humiliation so plainly on her face. It was different than the light embarrassment that pinked her lovely face at her family's teasing. This was _shame_. Theon's heart sank, recognizing what he had once seen in the mirror. Swallowing heavily, he tore his eyes away from Sansa, and focused on the two men, on the brink of fistfighting in the hospital. 

The blonde - Lannister - did indeed have a black eye. Theon hadn't seen it before, at the angle he had been at, but it was ugly and deep, and spoke of a particularly vicious blow to the face. Upon closer inspection, it seemed like his lip was pretty swollen too. Theon had thought Sansa's date - boyfriend? - had simply socked Robb, but it seemed like the Stark had clearly gotten the upper hand. Theon was impressed, and felt his respect for Robb Stark rising. Still, as much as he'd love to see Robb kick the other man's ass, he was on the clock, and he couldn't exactly condone an all out brawl in the middle of the waiting room, even if such occurrences had happened before. Usually on full moons, but St. Patrick's Day and New Year's Eve were also nights that were rife for trouble such as this. 

"Alright, alright, we're not going to do this here. Both of you need medical attention. Stark, you're going to come with me. Mr. Lannister, another nurse or doctor will be with you shortly." 

The blonde sneered at Robb first, then transferring his gaze to Theon. His smirk just widened, made even uglier by the unfortunate swelling at the corner of his mouth. "Not even the doctors are willing to look you over Stark. They had to send their little bitch boy." Theon didn't bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Robb would have lunged forward, but Theon's grip around his upper shoulder was ironclad, and he had worked as free security at Yara's enough to know how to handle a drunk man spoiling for a fight. Even if it was a fight that Theon personally would have loved to participate in. 

He _hated_ leaving Sansa with him and all of her misery, but Theon had a job to do, and Robb needed to be attended to. Someone else could have done it, but Theon didn't trust himself in a room alone with the Lannister asshole, or even with Lannister and Sansa both. The hatred was immediate, and while a large part of it was certainly wrapped up in the _Sansa_ of it all, Theon had recognized the look in those eyes. He had recognized the hard, cold glint, and he knew he wouldn't be able to be alone with Lannister for any measure of time, without losing his shit. It had been a long time since Theon had given into his anger, and longer still since Ramsay Bolton had clenched Theon in his grasp, but there were still moments. Moments when he wasn't quite Theon, and he was something else. Something Ramsay had tried turning him into. Theon couldn't be alone in moments like those. He wanted to groan, knowing he would need to call his therapist when he got home. But for now, he needed to focus on his job.

"Go ahead and take a seat. I need to start cleaning that nose." Theon opened the door to one of the empty rooms, and gestured toward the leather hospital chair that no one ever liked. 

Thankfully, albeit rather unexpectedly, Robb did exactly what he was told with silence, as Theon began rummaging through the cabinets, reaching for the box of gloves and the gauze. He snapped the blue rubber gloves over his hand, and turned to Robb, suddenly surprised by the slump of the man's shoulders. While Theon had only seen Robb Stark twice before tonight, he had always struck Theon as the sort of man who was confident, not necessarily cocky. Theon had always been more of the opposite, but Robb actually seemed to have things going for him. 

Now though, he just looked dejected. It was an uncomfortable sight, and Theon set to work cleaning Robb's nose, rather than admitting how it twisted his gut.

"I hate him," Robb finally muttered. Theon made no sound, just continued his work, but Robb continued anyways. "I never like the guys Sansa brings 'round, because they're never good enough for her, but I actually hate him." Robb's words, spoken thickly and poorly pronounced due to the broken nose, would have been funny. He sounded downright comical, even the dark tone he had adopted. Yet Theon's stomach only sank further and further. "He's going to fucking _wreck_ her, and I think he's going to like it too." He swallowed thickly, and Theon realized he had done the exact same thing. "But the worst part of it is Sansa's going to get it in her head that she deserves that." 

Theon let out a harsh breath, pulling abruptly away from Robb, who all but jumped, startled, as if suddenly realizing that Theon was in the room with him, and he wasn't just talking to a wall. 

"Sorry," he said softly, his bright blue eyes shining with sincerity. "I didn't mean to dump all this on you. I'm sure you're sick of us and our family drama by now."

Theon's jaw worked for a moment, before he tossed the bloody gauze in the non-hazardous trash bin, and stripped the gloves from his hand. "'S fine," he muttered. It _wasn't_ , but he was hardly about to explain why not to Robb fucking Stark, now was he? Robb though, for all the foolishness he had displayed during their other meetings, seemed mightily perceptive in the moment, for he just nodded quietly, accepting the lie Theon had fed him, without really believing it. 

Unable to stand in the same room as Robb and his own anger and his own everything, he quickly strode to the door, wrenching it open. He paused in the threshold, before turning around to Robb for the briefest of moments.

"It's hard. Watching...it's hard. It's harder for her though. Just...it's just hard. All you can really do is try to understand that."

Without waiting to see what Robb Stark made of the unhelpful advice, Theon strode forward quickly, leaving the room and Robb Stark and the memory of who he had once been, far behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this one ended on a heavier note, but for the most part, it's going to be pretty uphill from here! comments/kudos are always appreciated <3 feel free to come shout at me about the qitn [on tumblr](http://joygreys.tumblr.com).


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